


Kedreeva's Good Omens Tumblr Askbox Prompts

by Kedreeva



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Askbox Fic, Ficlet Collection, Gen, M/M, Other, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, see individual chapter notes for warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2020-12-07 16:29:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 9,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20978933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kedreeva/pseuds/Kedreeva
Summary: A collection of Good Omens fills I've done from prompts sent to my askbox upon my request.





	1. Table of Contents

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that I am NOT accepting prompts unless explicitly stated on my tumblr. These are quick and dirty fills, a bit like sketches for an artist, and not meant to be considered polished works, hence why they are collected here and relatively untagged, rather than being posted as individual stories. This collection is more for my own archival than to Publish publish them, and so that people can bookmark them rather than rely on trying to find them again on my Tumblr. 
> 
> The first chapter is a table of contents with the prompts listed, so you can know where to navigate to easier. Any warnings, should they apply, will be listed at the start of the chapter to which they apply.

**Chapter 1: You are here**

**Chapter 2**: Hurt/Comfort -- Aziraphale has been having terrible awful nightmares (subject doesn't matter, likely heaven/hell related) and is very, very hesitant about asking comfort from Crowley (from [fallsouthwinter](https://fallsouthwinter.tumblr.com/))([Original Tumblr post](https://kedreeva.tumblr.com/post/187568809408/a-more-specific-hurtcomfort-prompt-aziraphale))

**Chapter 3**: Crowley during the Nanny era, takes a break to be a snake in the garden for a bit, but Warlock finds "Brother Snake" and just wants to find Nanny or Brother Francis. Cue Aziraphale who is really trying not to laugh (from [nemathia](https://nemathia.tumblr.com/))([Original Tumblr post](https://kedreeva.tumblr.com/post/187565067658/how-about-crowley-during-the-nanny-era-takes-a))

**Chapter 4**: aziraphale reading crowley to sleep (from Anonymous)([Original Tumblr post](https://kedreeva.tumblr.com/post/187564852373/aziraphale-reading-crowley-to-sleepcrowley))

**Chapter 5**: Having them visit your favourite place in the world? (from [trekbec82](https://trekbec82.tumblr.com/))([Original Tumblr post](https://kedreeva.tumblr.com/post/187544017858/hi-i-just-saw-your-post-asking-for-prompt-ideas))

**Chapter 6**: Crowley teaching Az how to just relax and dance badly? (from Anonymous)([Original Tumblr post](https://kedreeva.tumblr.com/post/187521645103/if-youre-still-taking-prompts-maybe-do-one-of))

**Chapter 7:** One of the Ineffables accidetally drunk-summons the other. (from Anonymous)([Original Tumblr post](https://kedreeva.tumblr.com/post/636240565657305088))

**Chapter 8:** Selkie!Crowley and Swan!person Aziraphale. (From [Hyenasnake](https://hyenasnake.tumblr.com))([Original Tumblr post](https://kedreeva.tumblr.com/post/636244482997829632))

**Chapter 9 & 10:** Crowley reacting to humans finally reaching the stars, which means it may eventually be possible for him to be among his creations once again. (From [softiesongbird](https://softiesongbird.tumblr.com/)) + follow up: Crowley and Aziraphale meeting someplace new (from [wheeloffortune-design](https://wheeloffortune-design.tumblr.com/))([Original Tumblr Post](https://kedreeva.tumblr.com/post/636264869778309120))

**Chapter 11:** no matter how much he loves food, Aziraphale simply cannot cook, no matter how often he tries (from [jointed-custody](https://jointed-custody.tumblr.com/))([Original Tumblr post](https://kedreeva.tumblr.com/post/636352867775692800/what-about-no-matter-how-much-he-loves-food))

**Chapter 12:** Isla da Queimada Grande. Also known as "Snake Island", full of lethal snakes... just saying, Crowley might have found a great place for relaxing. (from Anonymous)([Original Tumblr post](https://kedreeva.tumblr.com/post/636339401352495104/isla-da-queimada-grande-also-known-as-snake))

**Chapter 13:** az and crow bathing or showering together (from Anonymous)([Original Tumblr post](https://kedreeva.tumblr.com/post/636423188280164352))

**Chapter 14:** Something kissy and cute, like Aziraphale's eating ice cream and ends up with some on his nose, so Crowley kisses it off (from Anonymous)([Original Tumblr post](https://kedreeva.tumblr.com/post/636443384983273472))


	2. Nightmares - Aziraphale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale having nightmares.

Aziraphale woke with a start, terror still heavy in his bones, still seizing in his muscles, and tried to take a breath through the constriction in his chest. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t call out for several minutes as the nightmare faded, leaving behind it only the bitter taste of adrenaline and an ache that wasn’t real, couldn’t possibly be real.

He hadn’t lost Crowley.

As soon as he had motor control back in hand, he rolled into a sitting position and picked up the small, fragile piece of technology he’d invested in since the world didn’t end. The screen lit when he touched it, and a couple of taps brought him into his image gallery. Almost all of them were of Crowley, many of them even smiling, and Aziraphale flipped through them until his heart stopped pounding. Gently, and without actually touching the screen, Aziraphale brushed a thumb across his favorite photo, one of Crowley looking up at him with a bit of a sly smile, ruined by the lack of his glasses and the fondness in his golden eyes.

Aziraphale tapped the screen a couple more times, switching to his contacts list. There was only one name, only one person he would want to call from anywhere except the comfort of his bookshop. And despite that he opened the entry almost nightly lately, he had yet to actually call. The time listed at the top of the phone read 3:14am, and Aziraphale was loathe to wake Crowley for such a trivial problem as a nightmare.

Their corporations had been more demanding lately, without the ability to recharge them in Heaven or Hell respectively. Crowley might have been having a little easier time of it, but not by much. He’d slept before, and eaten on occasion, but for the most part he was used to being as inhuman as Aziraphale was and while they were not, exactly, human, they weren’t exactly the same as other angels and demons anymore. Even if they could have returned to Heaven and Hell to recharge their mortal forms, Aziraphale thought they’d still be… different.

For one, they dreamed now.

Or at least, when Aziraphale had first broached the subject, to ask if Crowley ever dreamed, Crowley had told him yes, and that had been the end of it. Aziraphale had read some books on dreaming since, and decided that it must be considered a bit of a personal affair, and that sharing them was something most humans only did with their close friends. Crowley hadn’t seemed particularly keen on sharing anything more than that he had them, and so Aziraphale had not brought it up again.

Which also meant that he closed his contact list and set the darkened phone back on the night stand without calling Crowley.

As soon as he did, the screen lit up, Crowley’s name at the top and little red and green phone symbols over the top of Aziraphale’s favorite photo. For a brief moment, Aziraphale worried he had somehow pressed the call button, but this was definitely Crowley calling him, not the other way around. Quickly, he swiped at the green phone button, and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Are you alright?” he asked, instead of saying hello. There was absolutely no reason for Crowley to call him at quarter past three in the morning unless it was an emergency.

“Can’t sleep,” came Crowley’s voice, though it carried the scratch that came with having just woken up.

Aziraphale laid back against his headboard. “Me either,” he admitted quietly. There was something to these mobile phones, that he could be here in the softness and relative privacy of his bedroom and still talk to Crowley. Maybe he should have had one sooner. “Do you… that is, I wouldn’t mind company, if you like.”

Crowley let out a loud breath. “I’d like that,” he said, as earnest as Aziraphale had ever heard him be. “I don’t really want to be alone right now.”

Aziraphale frowned. “Did something happen?”

There was a long silence, so long that Aziraphale pulled the phone away from his ear to make sure he hadn’t accidentally disconnected it somehow, but when he put it back, Crowley said: “It’s just, nothing. Silly to let it get to me. They’re just nightmares.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, heart breaking. So that was it. That was what Crowley hadn’t wanted to tell him about dreaming- neither one of them were. “I have them too.”

“Yeah?” Crowley said, sounding a little… hopeful, almost. “You never said.”

“You never said either,” Aziraphale pointed out, then forced himself to relax. “Come over, Crowley. We can talk about them in person. Maybe get breakfast in the morning?”

He could hear Crowley’s smile in his words. “Be there soon.”


	3. Nanny Snake Crowley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley during the Nanny era, takes a break to be a snake in the garden for a bit.

Crowley had covered all of his bases. The Ambassador and his wife were out until tomorrow morning, the cook was busy considering dinner, and Warlock had been successfully passed off to ‘brother Francis’ in the front lawn gardens, to learn about topiaries. Not extremely fascinating to a seven year old, but Aziraphale had agreed to give him a little break and anyway, they were supposed to be balancing their time with the child.

This all came together to give Crowley an hour or two to slip deep into the back gardens, among the patches of herbs Aziraphale had begun two years ago at Crowley’s insistence. They grew thick and fragrant and at the very center of them Crowley had miracled a large, flat rock that caught the best part of a sunny day.

This rock was where he disappeared to now, the sun-warmed stone cooling under his belly scutes as he coiled atop it, dozing. On some days, the nice ones like this, Crowley envied Aziraphale’s position as the manor gardener. He spent most of his days in the peace and quiet of the garden, tending living things that didn’t talk back, and crafting… well, beauty, if Crowley was being honest. It didn’t - couldn’t - compare to Eden, but a little bit of magic fed into the trees and shrubs and bushes and flowers left them all a little more well-sculpted than should have been possible.

And perhaps more importantly, it left a little bit of Aziraphale’s aura painted on every single leaf, every blade of grass, every flower petal, and while Crowley lay on his sun-touched stone, he basked in both sunlight and love. It wasn’t for him, he knew, but for a little while, it didn’t matter. For a little while he could doze in blissful ignorance of that, and pretend whatever he liked.

Unfortunately, he got a bit too deep into the dozing and landed squarely in the middle of sleeping, which was how he found himself being roughly lifted from his stone and up into the air like some kind of common garden pest. He hissed, whipping around to bite at whatever creature had got him, only to discover Warlock’s face, surprise and a bit of fear written across it. Crowley stopped dead, jaw snapping shut, and he went a bit limp in the boy’s grasp.

This was very bad news, he thought, looking for a way out of being held even as Warlock began to cart him back to the house. At least he hadn’t taken Nanny’s advice, and ground the living thing he found under his heel, but that wasn’t exactly good news either, Crowley supposed. Not when that’s what he ought to have done, had Crowley done his job well enough. But maybe it was better he hadn’t-

Crowley squirmed, causing Warlock to renew his grasp with both hands now, one wrapped so firmly at the base of Crowley’s skull that he’d have suffocated if he’d been a real snake. He couldn’t even hiss. He wondered a little frantically where they were going. He wouldn’t let himself be discorporated by a seven year old human, but changing back was a last resort; he’d have to give up being Nanny and come back a different way, or worse, not come back at all.

“What have you got there, young master Warlock?”

Relief sagged all of Crowley’s muscles and he strained to see Aziraphale from where he was being held aloft by the child. “A snake!”

“No!” Aziraphale said loudly, and then there were big, warm hands taking him gently from Warlock’s hands, and Crowley was free to move once more. He took a deep breath, tongue flicking out as he quickly wrapped himself around Aziraphale’s hands and wrists and turned to look at Warlock, who looked very confused. “No, ah, brother snake here doesn’t like to be picked up, young master. You could have gotten bit, and that wouldn’t have been nice for anyone.”

Crowley hissed to punctuate the lesson, and Warlock managed to look a little chagrined at the admonishment. Aziraphale’s thumb rubbed comfortingly over Crowley’s scales, telling him he was safe. Right up until Aziraphale spoke again.

“But… this one won’t hurt you,” Aziraphale continued, getting carefully to his knees. “In fact, I think he would like it very much if you took him back where you found him and set him free. Wouldn’t that be nice, Brother Snake?”

Crowley turned his head to stare at Aziraphale, but all he saw was the pursed lips of a suppressed grin. So that’s how it was, Crowley thought. He flicked his tongue out at Aziraphale and turned back to find Warlock’s hands reaching for him. He reared back just a little, and then remembered he was supposed to be playing along, and slithered willingly into the open hands, coiling himself loosely around Warlock’s wrist.

“There you are,” Aziraphale said. “I think he’ll stay right like that while you take him back. And be sure when you set him down that you tell him how much you love him. Then I think you ought to find Nanny, and tell her about your adventure.”

Warlock nodded and the next second they were off. Crowley managed to lean far enough out to look around Warlock as he ran for the back gardens again, and caught sight of Aziraphale waving to him with just his fingers and a broad, smug grin.

An utter bastard, Crowley thought… and he absolutely loved him for it.


	4. Aziraphale Reading Crowley to Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale reads a bedtime story to Crowley.

Aziraphale folded back the covers a little bit at a time, until he had enough room to climb onto the bed. It was much softer and less dusty than the one he kept at the bookshop, and it had actually been slept in a couple of times. It still felt new, but the sort of new that had passed its warranty and set up shop to stay. The sort of new that felt very ready to be old.

When Aziraphale had first started staying over – and it was infrequently at first – he had brought over his own pillows. In truth, the only reason he had a bed at all was so that he could sit up in it and read books that weren’t terribly suited for an old book shop. Most of them were not unsuitable in general, but too brightly colored and new to belong on his dusty shelves.

Crowley, when he had first found Aziraphale reading a novel from present day, had been surprised enough he hadn’t teased. Or perhaps he hadn’t been surprised at all, because he’d said: “They all start somewhere, don’t they? Even your oldest ones were new once.”

Tonight, however, was not for the very new or the very old, but the very familiar. Crowley had made a request, and Aziraphale had spent a good few hours choosing exactly which text to bring with him. It sat now on the bedside table, a small white feather folded into the front cover to be used as a bookmark. Aziraphale climbed into bed, fluffed the firm pillows he’d brought with him for the occasion, and pulled the book into his lap. He didn’t need it, really – he could have recited the whole thing from heart, after all – but Crowley had asked him to read, not recite, and having the physical copy in his hands felt much more right in that respect.

Footsteps in the hall drew his attention, and a moment later Crowley appeared, a mug of something steaming in each hand. He set one on the stand where the book had been and passed the other to Aziraphale to test. Aziraphale took it gratefully, blew gently across the top of it to cool it – a gesture humans often mimicked despite that it did so with rather a lot less success when they did it – and sipped at the tea. His eyes slid closed as he savored it on his tongue for just a second. Crowley always did know how to make the best for him.

“What did you pick?” Crowley asked as he climbed in on the other side of the bed. The distance didn’t last as he scooted over and insinuated himself into Aziraphale’s personal space, head on his lap and an arm slung over him.

Aziraphale leaned enough to set his mug next to the second mug – both of them were for him, because he had no intention of leaving or sleeping – and then settled into the pillows and placed a hand gently atop Crowley’s head. “It’s called Winnie-the-Pooh. I must admit I believe it was written with children in mind, but…”

“But it’s fun?” Crowley asked, sounding a little smug and a lot indulgent. “I told you I don’t mind what you read, if you like to read it. I just-”

“Want to hear my voice,” Aziraphale finished for him. “You did say that, yes. Still. Shall I begin?”

Crowley’s eyes slid closed, and Aziraphale used the hand not touching him to switch off the lights. Then he let just the faintest bit of his halo’s light seep into the mortal realm, just enough to light his page when he opened the book. The glow was much less harsh than a reading light and more white than yellow, making it easier to see the words anyway.

“Ready,” Crowley mumbled against his leg.

Aziraphale smiled, fingers stroking soothingly over Crowley’s hair once. “There’s a dedication that I think you might be able to appreciate,” he said quietly. “It reads: Hand in hand we come, Christopher Robin and I, to lay this hook in your lap. Say you’re surprised? Say you like it? Say it’s just what you wanted? Because its yours - Because we love you.”

He could feel Crowley’s smile. “D’he write it to you?” he asked.

“No,” Aziraphale told him, playing gently with the small hairs at the nape of Crowley’s neck. “I never met him, actually. I think he just wanted people to have something nice. A book to feel warm about, looking back at one’s childhood. I think humans call it nostalgia.”

Crowley snorted, and didn’t respond except to curl a little closer to him. They’d never had childhoods, never had anyone to read them bedtime stories or sing them lullabies or stroke their hair until they fell asleep. What they’d had instead… well, Crowley’s view of it was different than Aziraphale’s, and the only changes they could make to that were the ones going forward.

Instead of commenting further, Aziraphale turned the page until he got to the beginning of the story. He cleared his throat and felt Crowley relax a little at the indication that he would read. “If you happen to have read another book about Christopher Robin, you may remember that he once had a swan…”


	5. Anniversary Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale takes Crowley on an anniversary trip.

Aziraphale watched Crowley push the door open with splayed fingertips, peeking around it like he thought that something might jump out at them. Nothing did, and nothing would; that was sort of the point of coming here, after all, to get away from everything for a little bit. To go so far away from everything else that they were the only two around for a while. Aziraphale knew that this wasn’t exactly the case, but it was close enough without going somewhere truly wild, which Crowley wouldn’t have liked very much.

Crowley gave him a quick glance, and then stepped over the threshold, eyes up as he took stock of the place. Aziraphale looked as well, comparing it to the pictures he had seen online when he booked it. The place was small, with a main gathering room that had two lounges and a kitchen that wasn’t separated from it except by the kind of flooring. To their left ran a small corridor with several closed doors that Aziraphale thought must contain the two bedrooms and the bathroom.

“It doesn’t have much,” Aziraphale said, hiding his smile when Crowley gave a little jump at the sudden noise. “But I figure we can just-” he gave a perfunctory snap that did nothing. “-if we need anything.”

Crowley stared at him as though he’d gone full true form, and without a word he turned away and headed down the hallway. He disappeared beyond the first door, and Aziraphale remained where he was, a soft smile warming his chest. A moment later, Crowley reappeared, only to disappear into the second room, obviously investigating. The third door was the bathroom, and Crowley stopped dead in front of the open fourth doorway, staring.

_ Ah_, Aziraphale thought, finally moving to join him. The fourth one must lead to the back side of the cabin.

He bumped gently against Crowley’s shoulder as he joined him to stare down the short hallway. At the end, the sky opened up, as if they were floating in it. He smiled, his heart giving a small twist, and then he took a step forward, Crowley following at his heel. Their footsteps echoed around them and then shattered into open space as they emerged onto the sprawling balcony.

Stepping out of the way, Aziraphale watched as Crowley kept going, right up until he could set hands gently on the railing. A breeze ruffled through his hair, upsetting a few strands, but he didn’t seem to notice, transfixed by the view. Aziraphale couldn’t blame him.

Spread out before them was a rolling expanse of old mountains, painted in the colors of autumn and topped by endless blue sky. Aziraphale had made sure all of the clouds found their way elsewhere as they had driven up the winding mountain trails to get here. This far away from everything, even their extra senses barely registered anything except the open beauty of the Appalachians. Leaning out a little farther, practically hanging over the edge, the view would feel like flying. Perhaps they could go later, Aziraphale thought.

Slowly, Crowley’s wings unfurled as though he’d had the same thought, his feathers ruffled by the breeze before it stilled. He turned a little, catching Aziraphale’s gaze. “How did you _find _this?”

Aziraphale chuckled and stepped up to the railing beside him, folding his arms to lean against it. “Anathema recommended it, for our anniversary. She showed me pictures.” In truth, he’d asked, but he wasn’t about to say that.

“Anniversary?” Crowley echoed, arching an eyebrow.

Aziraphale’s cheeks heated a little, but he only smiled a bit more. “Yes, well. She does think we’re married, you know.”

“And let me guess- you haven’t dissuaded her of the notion at all,” Crowley said, voice warming as he grinned. “Hoping they’ll send you a present, angel?”

Aziraphale gave a small, noncommittal hum, staring out over the flame-colored mountains. He could feel Crowley’s eyes upon him, but he just didn’t have the sort of bravery it would take to look at him quite yet. However, he’d taken them all this way and gotten them this far, he told himself very reasonably. There would be no sense in giving up now. He cleared his throat and took a fortifying breath.

“Actually, I was hoping to make her as accurate as her ancestor,” he said, as evenly as he could, his heart leaping into his throat as soon as the words were out of it.

Crowley grew so silent that Aziraphale finally risked a glance over, only to find Crowley openly staring at him, lips parted as if he had tried to say something. Aziraphale’s heart sank a little, but he forced himself to smile through it.

“Pardon me,” he said, unable to stop the little dip in his voice. “That was a bit forward of-”

“An anniversary,” Crowley interrupted, and although it sounded like a question, it sounded like the sort of question that Crowley had meant to say with a lot more words that had somehow gotten lost. “I- you- wh-” He swallowed and tried again, eyes locked on Aziraphale’s. “Will you have an anniversary with me?”

Warmth coiled deep in Aziraphale’s chest as he relaxed, infinitely glad that he’d misread Crowley’s initial reaction. “I suppose we ought to have something to anniversarate.”

“That’s not a word,” Crowley told him as he fell into place where he had always been, at Aziraphale’s side. He folded his arms on the railing as well, leaning against Aziraphale and swinging one wing up over him. “But how about this?”

He leaned over, soft lips pressing to Aziraphale’s cheek so that Aziraphale’s eyes squinched shut happily for a second. Then Aziraphale turned his head to regard Crowley. “Maybe we should… have a _few_ anniversaries?”

Crowley grinned, and kissed him again.

And again, and again, and again.


	6. Crowley Teaches Aziraphale to Dance

“_Relax_, angel,” Crowley ordered, a bit of a laugh coloring his tone with warmth as he stood in front of Aziraphale, hands coming to rest on his tight shoulders. “You said you danced before, right?”

“At a club,” Aziraphale informed him, voice a little higher than usual. He gave a little sniff. “And it was a group activity, I could hardly have blended in if I hadn’t. It was practically part of the job. And it had _rules_, Crowley.”

“Do you want me to give you some rules to break? Maybe make it an order?” Crowley said gamely, grin curling his lips. “I could do that.”

“No!” Aziraphale said, much too quickly, and then colored prettily as he cleared his throat. “No, I’m quite certain that I can… that you can show me what to do. I can do it.”

Crowley tried to hide his eyeroll, he really did. “It hasn’t got to be perfect. You just sort of… dance.”

With that, he pulled one of Aziraphale’s shoulders forward a little, and Aziraphale nearly stumbled into him in surprise. Crowley didn’t go far enough to make that possible, though, and Aziraphale ended up just rolling with the motion a little as Crowley pulled his other shoulder forward and pushed the first one back. Music clicked on from Crowley’s exquisite sound system, despite the fact that there were no actual speakers.

Aziraphale let Crowley move him, little by little, until he began to pair the music to the beat. They were, by no means, experts at what they were doing and when Crowley let go it seemed a little bit more like maybe they were just doing a little bit of flailing, but the longer it went on, the more Aziraphale seemed to be having a little bit of… fun.

“You really just…” He wiggled a little in time with the faster tempo of the music, eyes lighting up a bit. “Why, I do believe you’re having _fun._”

Crowley gave him a frown that was ruined by the smile poking through it. “It’s certainly more fun than doing human magic,” Crowley informed him a little pridefully. “And it gets _more_ fun when you add more people to the equation, unlike magic tricks.”

Aziraphale hesitated, turning from where he’d gotten to in order to give Crowley a curious look. “You know, the Gavotte was a group dance, as well,” he said carefully. “But I’m given to understand there are some… couples dances?”

Crowley froze like a brick wall had hit him. “Couples dances?” he echoed warily. That was quite the implication, considering Aziraphale had come over asking to learn to dance for a club visit.

“Well,” Aziraphale continued, looking a little more uncertain now. “Dances like… the tango. Swing dancing.” He looked away, though Crowley couldn’t tell what had drawn his attention- they were the only two moving things in the entire flat. “Slow dancing.”

Crowley swallowed. _Quite_ the implication. “I can’t teach you how to tango or swing,” he said slowly, and then gave his fingers a deliberate snap and the song abruptly changed, new opening notes drifting softly through the flat. “But,” he said, holding out a hand for Aziraphale to take, “slow dancing is barely dancing.”

_ Wise men say…._

Aziraphale smiled softly, and put his hand in Crowley’s.

_ Only fools rush in…_

Crowley pulled him gently closer, lifting their joined hands up to place Aziraphale’s on his shoulder. Aziraphale’s other hand came up to join in, fingers finding the soft hairs at the nape of Crowley’s neck.

_ But I can’t help…_

He settled his hands, warm and a little uncertain, on Aziraphale’s waist, and guided them both into motion.

_ Falling in love with you…_

Crowley’s head bowed just a little, enough to rest his forehead against Aziraphale’s, and just like that, they both relaxed and danced.


	7. Accidental Drunk Summoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the Ineffables accidentally drunk summons the other.

Crowley felt the tell-tale tingle start at the base of his spine just as he reached his front door. “No, no, nonnono,” he said, grabbed onto the handle of his door and dropping the parcel in his hands to do so. “Not tonight, come _on!”_

The spell which grabbed at his essence didn’t seem to care about his plans, and only a couple of seconds later, the world twisted around Crowley and he found himself jettisoned through the material of Earth’s dimension and tossed out on the other side.

He was on his feet in a second, a snarl on his lips, vision still blurry from the forced teleport. His wings ached but he kept them mantled threateningly until the blur around him resolved into… into the _bookshop_ of all places, with Aziraphale sitting on the floor with a book upturned on the floor and a nearly-empty tumbler in his hand. The sour-sweet tang of whiskey pinched at the air and Crowley could see the sticky liquid dripping down Aziraphale’s forearm where it had sloshed from the confines of the glass.

“It worked!” Aziraphale exclaimed first. “Oh, I didn’t-”

Crowley lets his fangs retract and his wings droop and he pressed against the magic that bound him into the sigils on the floor. “Aziraphale,” he started.

“We’ll have to destroy this one,” Aziraphale said, grabbing up the book with clumsy fingers. “We’ll have to destroy every copy of it, that’s for sure.”

“The book?” Crowley asked, pressing again. It was just as surely binding as if a human had cast it, but not more so. Aziraphale must have found an old human-made spell. “You’re going to destroy a book?”

“It could summon you!” Aziraphale said plaintively, motioning with the whiskey tumbler and sending the liquid sloshing dangerously again.

“It _did _summon me! _You_ summoned me, you twit!” Crowley said, gesturing to the magic all around him. “What were you doing casting demon summoning spells?”

Aziraphale scooped up the book and wobbled to his feet to come show it to Crowley. “I was worried, you see,” he said, nearly upending the glass over the pages. “We’re all we’ve got, and what if someone- if someone-” A hiccup interrupted him and he looked surprised by it. “Well, I- I couldn’t let that happen.”

Crowley softened. Aziraphale had obviously got to drinking alone, and that had led to worrying, and there was plenty to worry about. “You could have summoned anyone,” he said gently, leaning his forehead against the sigil walls. “You’re lucky I was the closest demon.”

Aziraphale gave him a strange smile, a bit too watery. “I knew it would be you,” he said. “You’re always the closest demon.”

A wave of his hand destroyed the sigils, and Crowley fell forward a step, until he caught himself. He took a second to straighten himself up a bit before he reached over and plucked the volume out of Aziraphale’s hands, followed by the glass. “Come on,” he said gently, “let’s get you cleaned up a bit, and you can tell me what brought all this on.”

“I missed you,” Aziraphale said ruefully as he allowed Crowley to direct him toward the downstairs kitchenette. “And I thought, it would be nice if I could summon you here so I wouldn’t miss you, and I thought, I thought if _I_ could summon you then anyone could, and I’ve books, you see-”

“And so you just had too much to drink and started testing the theory?” Crowley asked, trying to keep his amusement out of his voice. It really _had_ been dangerous, after all.

Aziraphale’s cheeks pinked a little as the stepped into the kitchenette. “I might have had the drink before the idea,” he admitted a bit fretfully.

Crowley held Aziraphale’s hand around the back as he stretched his arm out over the sink, rinsing off the alcohol and then patting it dry. Aziraphale held still while Crowley rolled his sleeve back down over the skin, and then patted his wrist. He could have miracled it away, but a lot of miracles didn’t interact well with alcohol – for the caster _or_ the recipient – and anyway he tried not to miss chances to touch Aziraphale.

“I’m getting you a mobile in the morning,” Crowley declared before pressing a kiss to Aziraphale’s temple and moving around him to get two new tumblers and pick a new drink. “And then if you miss me, you can drunk dial me like a human.”

Aziraphale gave a little snort of laughter at that, but his smile seemed genuine. “I’d like that.”


	8. Selkies and Swans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selkie!Crowley and Swan!Aziraphale.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Aziraphale said, paddling a little closer to the strange, blobby creature basking itself on the muddy shore. It had already made a mess of the weeds and it didn’t appear to be interested in leaving anytime soon. He had seen similar creatures once or twice, when he got too close to the edge of the world.

As he got close, it cracked one watery eye to look at him, and then heaved itself onto its side and stared at him even closer, the big, dark rings around its eyes making it look almost as if it wore human spectacles. For a second, Aziraphale really thought it had understood him, and then it said: “What are you going to do about it?”

Aziraphale bristled. She wasn’t a feral animal, then. She was like him, some kind of shifter. “Chase you out, for one,” he said, opening his impressive wingspan. Swans were, all things considered, quite large for birds, and Aziraphale was bigger than a real swan. “Back where you belong.”

“I’ve never eaten swan before,” the creature said, little tongue poking out as she bared actual teeth, ones which beat the serrations along Aziraphale’s bill.

“And you won’t today,” he told her tightly, folding his wings. “What are you doing so far away from the sea, anyway?”

Some of her swagger deflated and she looked away. “Just... felt like a change, is all.”

Aziraphale circled himself once, gaze never leaving the strange little creature. “That’s like a fish getting up and having a go on land,” Aziraphale said. “Your people don’t live in this kind of water.”

“It won’t hurt me,” she said. “Tastes funny, but it’s safe enough.” She gave him a hard once over and then raised herself up on flat flippers in the front. “And anyway, not everything that lives in the sea has to stay there you know.”

“I do know,” Aziraphale said, daring to paddle a little closer. “Is that where you’re going? To land?”

She looked away. “I thought about it. Do you know what I am?”

“You’re not a seal,” Aziraphale said. “A shifter?”

“Close enough,” she said, wiggling a little closer. The water seeped around her auburn fur, turning it darker, almost a normal color for a seal. Aziraphale backed off, still not certain of those teeth. Her teeth had had serrations the way his bill did, and that seemed much less pleasant. “I’m a selkie.”

Aziraphale didn’t miss a lot about being in a human form, but he did miss frowning and smiling. He knew what a selkie was by name, if not form. “The land is dangerous for a selkie,” he cautioned. “Men will try to steal your pelt. They’ll call you theirs, and they’ll be right, and you’ll have to stay. You really should go back to the shore.”

“I can’t,” she blurted, and then gave the final heave to send herself into the water. Aziraphale paddled nervously around, unable to see her in the mud she had stirred up, until it swirled near to him. There was no time to paddle away before she surfaced beside him, just enough to speak. “They kicked me out. My family.”

Aziraphale softened, just a little. “Mine too,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a quiet moment. This close, he could see the golden ring around her huge, dark pupils. “Do you want to talk about it? We could go get dinner in a human port. If you wore my pelt, no one would try to take it.”

“You don’t even know me,” Aziraphale said. For all she knew, he could make off with her pelt just as easily.

“My name’s Crowley,” she said, before he’d even finished talking.

He drifted beside her, bobbing gently in the flowing water, before finally sighing. It had been a while since he’d had human food, and she’d wrecked his normal feeding grounds. It couldn’t hurt. “Aziraphale.”

“That’s a mouthful,” she told him. “Would you like to come to dinner with me, Aziraphale?”

“I’m not on the menu, am I?” he asked, drawing a high, sweet laugh from her.

“You’re not,” she assured him. “In fact, I think we could be quite good friends.”

Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure about that, but he paddled around her and began to swim upriver slowly, leading the way. A moment later he felt a surge of water, and then he was upon her back, swimming upstream much faster than he’d been able to go without flying, and he thought maybe this little arrangement wouldn’t be so bad after all.


	9. Moon Landing (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley reacting to humans finally reaching the stars, which means it may eventually be possible for him to be among his creations once again.

“They did it!” shouted a tinny voice on the other end of the telephone as soon as Aziraphale had gotten it off the cradle.

“Who did it?” Aziraphale said, confused. Crowley sounded happy but he was shouting awfully loudly even though Aziraphale knew he was well-aware that telephones could carry even small sounds great distances. “And what did they-”

“They made it to the moon!” Crowley crowed over the top of him. “They actually did it- I had my doubts, when they were making a fuss about going, I’d never heard of any plans up top that involved them getting off the planet, but they _did it,_ Aziraphale.”

“Yes, quite- quite right,” he agreed, not terribly less confused. “I’m sorry, who made it to the moon, now?” He really hoped it was not Hell, as demons really were supposed to be barred from going out among the stars again. They’d been cast down.

“The humans! The humans- Angel, don’t you ever- nevermind,” Crowley said, talking himself in a quick, tight circle so fast it was astounding he didn’t get dizzy. “The humans took a rocket and blasted it up to the moon.”

“When?” Aziraphale asked, casting a glance around for the radio he was sure he’d had just the other day. He really couldn’t be expected to listen to it all the time, the humans were constantly getting up to things, but perhaps if they’d escaped the terrarium, it was time to pay attention. “Where are they headed next?”

“What?” Crowley asked, overly loud. “Next? Nowhere, they’re just- they went up, and then they’ll come back down again.”

Aziraphale stopped rummaging through a pile of books and looked at the receiver he’d been holding at the end of its wire. “You mean they went to all the trouble to get off the planet, and now they’re just going to turn around and come back?”

There was a long silence on the other hand, and Aziraphale thought maybe Crowley had hung up, except that there was no tone to suggest it. “W-they... they can’t breathe up there,” Crowley said, sounding as confused as Aziraphale now. “They had to come back.”

“Didn’t they take any air up with them?” Aziraphale asked.

“Angel!” Crowley said, exasperated. “The _humans_ have gotten up in to _space_ for the _first time_.” He stressed the words in a way that Aziraphale gathered should be significant, but Crowley couldn’t possibly be worried about them escaping Earth; he was, after all, the reason they had escaped anywhere in the first place. “Space.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand the excitement,” Aziraphale admitted. “If they’ve come right back down again-”

“They’ll go back,” Crowley said quickly. “I’m certain of it. And someday, when they’ve gotten very good at it, there’s a chance I might be able to get back up there and see... you know. Stuff.”

Oh, Aziraphale thought. “Your stars,” he said aloud. He’d nearly forgotten Crowley was a starmaker. He’d confided it so long ago, on a grassy knoll, back before humans had put so much light into the sky that the stars lost their shine. “You could go back to them.”

“I could go back to them,” Crowley agreed softly.

Aziraphale’s mind tripped around over the implications for a moment before he managed to string together one coherent thought. “Should we celebrate?” he asked tentatively. “Maybe a nice bottle of Cheval Blanc?”

Crowley’s voice warmed. “Be there in two shakes,” he said, and the line went dead.


	10. Moon Landing (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale meeting "someplace new" like the control room of a moon landing.

_ “You!”_ hissed a familiar voice behind him.

Aziraphale turned to find Crowley staring at him from behind some truly awful aviator glasses. He was wearing a mustache and holding a clipboard and a mug of coffee and wearing the stuffiest getup Aziraphale had ever, ever seen him in. He would have laughed, if it wouldn’t have given them both away. As it was, he covered his mouth with one hand, pulled off his headset with the other, and scooted his chair back to get out of it.

Crowley let him grab his upper arm and steer him into the hallway. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I could ask you the same thing!” Crowley protested.

Aziraphale could feel his cheeks heat, but he kept his voice low. “I am _obviously_ here to aid the humans in their endeavors. I didn’t realize your side would send you, if-”

“My _side_ didn’t send me,” Crowley snapped, still whispering. “What’s your side want with sending the humans to space? I thought it was your deal to keep their feet on the ground!”

Aziraphale blinked. “My side didn’t send me, either,” he said quietly. “You came here by yourself? Crowley, I thought you _wanted_ the humans to succeed at- oh. Oh I see. Are you here to help?”

Crowley practically jumped out of his skin at the words, his own going sibilant with indignation. “Ssssshut up, don’t sssay that that loud. Of course I’m here to… make sure the humans essscape the Earth or something.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said drily.

“Well what are you here for, if that wanker upstairs didn’t send you along?” Crowley straightened a little and a flicker of hurt vanished from his eyes almost as soon as it appeared. “You’re here to stop them?”

“I’m here to-” He stopped, glancing around as if someone might seriously be listening to them despite that every human ear was trained heart and soul on the two men droning over the speaker about moon rocks. Aziraphale lowered his voice anyway. “I’m here to make sure that it goes alright.” He swallowed and risked looking up to meet Crowley’s eyes. “I thought, if they succeed, they’ll keep pursuing this… they’ll keep going into space, I mean. So that… someday… you know.”

He did not miss the way Crowley's jaw clenched, or the glimmer of wet behind the aviators. “Really?”

“Really really,” Aziraphale said gently. “Let me do this. I should be home in a few days, if you want to celebrate when they arrive home safely.”

Crowley sniffed and looked up at the ceiling for a second, leg jiggling, and then he nodded and forced a smile. “Yeah. Yeah. Cheval Blanc?”

Aziraphale nodded, and watched until Crowley disappeared from sight before returning to his seat inside mission control.


	11. Aziraphale Can't Cook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no matter how much he loves food, Aziraphale simply cannot cook, no matter how often he tries

The thing about God that Aziraphale had known for his entire existence, after the fact that She loved all of her creations, was that She was _petty._

Oh, certainly this had manifested in myriad ways since the beginning of time, but it was not new then, either. Aziraphale had seen the transgressions of Noah’s folk and he had known, before She ever uttered a word of instruction, that it was going to push a button. The flood hadn’t been a surprise. Neither had the rainbow after. In fact, none of the things that set her off in the epochs of Aziraphale’s existence came as much of a surprise beyond the first few.

The apocalypse, such as it was, now that was different. That wasn’t petty. That was vindictive. That was cruel. Petty would have been taking all the angels and demons off the planet just for the satisfaction of watching the humans flounder and fail without them. It had felt wrong, the interference of the antichrist, and the angels and demons pushing for a war between themselves. It wasn’t _like_ Her.

What _was_ like her, absolutely and entirely, was Aziraphale’s inability to cook.

It was not that he couldn’t combine ingredients in the right amounts, in appropriate dishes, but the actual _cooking_ part, with the flames and/or heat... well. She had come to him and asked him what he’d done with the sword, and he’d lied to Her face, and She had decided that was fine. But if he was going to give away one flame, he couldn’t just have another.

This was, as must be imagined, inconvenient, as Aziraphale loved food a good deal, and was completely unable to make any dish that involved heat of any kind. Even his cocoa and his mulled wines only came to temperature if he directly miracled them that way, no cooking or heating involved; a fact which had gotten him into a lot of trouble with Gabriel before the apocalypse hadn’t happened.

It was not, Aziraphale had argued, a _frivolous_ miracle to heat his tea. Gabriel had been unimpressed with this argument, which Aziraphale holds is only because he simply refused to try _any_ tea, hot or cold.

So Aziraphale frequented human shops for food, and ate cold dishes when he was staying in for the night, and went out to dine with Crowley when he wanted something warm. It was a perfectly fine unspoken Arrangement, and one which he had _thought_ Crowley understood, until the very first night Crowley had suggested they stay in and cook.

“Ourselves?” Aziraphale asked tentatively. _Both of us?_ was what he really wanted to ask, and Crowley must have heard it because he gave a noncommittal shrug. 

“Or I could cook for you, if you don’t want to cook,” Crowley said, not quite looking at him. “Or if you don’t know how.”

“I know _how,”_ Aziraphale said before he could stop his indignation from spilling the beans. He flushed a little, but straightened his jacket and stuck up his chin a little. “I just... can’t.”

Crowley’s smile sneaked into a grin. “Rubbish at it, are you? Is that why we’re always going out?”

“I’m not _rubbish_ at it.” Aziraphale decided that he was already in for a penny, he may as well make it a pound. “I just... can’t use fire. You know... the whole _gave it away_ thing.”

Crowley’s nose crinkled in distaste. “I thought you said she never mentioned it again?”

“Well, she hasn’t,” Aziraphale hedged. “She hasn’t had to, has she?”

“Suppose not,” Crowley said, a little low, a little sad. “I can’t- I haven’t... fire’s not really my thing, either. Not since, y’know... the shop and all.”

Aziraphale studied him for a moment and then brushed aside the anger within himself, and the pain of seeing Crowley hurting, too. “My dear,” he said instead, “how do you feel about ordering in? I hear the humans are getting quite good at it lately.”

Crowley perked up a little at that. “My treat?”

“Of course,” Aziraphale agreed with a smile.


	12. Snake Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isla da Queimada Grande. Also known as "Snake Island", full of lethal snakes... just saying, Crowley might have found a great place for relaxing.

Snakes are, in general, solitary creatures. They spend the majority of their lives on their own, slithering about their business, eating the locals and sleeping in the sun and, very occasionally, hooking up with the best prospect that wanders their way for a bit. There were exceptions, of course, like the way rattlers or garter snakes denned up, sometimes by the hundreds, to wait out winter. 

Which is why Crowley finds it so surprising when, in a hissy fit, he retires to a remote island - one across the ocean and all the way in another hemisphere - and finds himself surrounded by small, golden bodies.

He had coiled himself up in a clearing big enough to fit him, one which had made a hole in the canopy that will close quickly enough but for now leaves sunlight streaming down. He had expected to take a short nap, maybe a year or two, but as soon as he lays his head upon the spongey undergrowth, he hears a soft hiss and the slide of tiny scales rasping along his own.

There are snakes here. He tunes his senses from human languages to snakes, and he can hear their whispers all around him. He is bigger than any of them, hundreds of times bigger, and they are curious. They are fascinated. He lies very still and they emerge from the foliage and surround him, exploring and tasting the air and asking him questions.

Where has he come from?

How old is he to have grown so large?

Why are his scales black and red instead of golden?

Can we see your fangs?

He answers them patiently for days, and every passing hour only seems to bring new snakes until he is surrounded by thousands of them. Some of them have climbed the fallen tree that made the hole in the sky, so that they may rest atop him, warmed by the sun on his blackened scales.

When he tells them he should go, they ask for him to stay. He tells them he must sleep, and they vow to watch over him as he does so. He falls into peaceful dreams to the lilting of their voices in songs known only to those who share his serpent’s aspect, and it will be several decades before he wakes again.


	13. Bathing (for shed)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "az and crow bathing or showering together"
> 
> Warnings for mild nonsexual nongraphic nudity, mild innuendo, and some bad puns.

Aziraphale sat beside the claw-footed tub, one arm resting on the lip of it to pillow his head. The air smelled faintly of rosehip and jasmine, giving the bathroom a soft, sleepy haze. The music he had left on downstairs drifted up, muffled by the bathroom door.

Gently, so as not to splash water, he swirled the fingertips of his free hand through the water, relishing the heat the seeped freshly into his skin. Steam curled up from the motion, and he let just a little bit of magic slide off of him to maintain the warmth of the bath for its occupant.

Without lifting his head or even opening his eyes, Crowley smiled at the slight increase in heat. “You could just join me, you know.”

“I’m not the one shedding soon,” Aziraphale reminded him.

“You could be if you took a few layers off,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale gave him a dry look at the cheeky pun. “You’re supposed to be soaking.”

“Oh, I am,” Crowley assured him, and then cracked an eye just to see him roll his eyes. Aziraphale obliged.

“Ten more minutes,” Aziraphale offered after a few minutes of companionable silence. When Crowley lifted his head to look at him, he smiled. “I’ve decided I will join you in ten more minutes.”

Aziraphale would never tire of seeing Crowley’s face light up the way it did as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He could see how Crowley had gotten partial to a similar reaction while offering nice things to Aziraphale. They certainly had been fools for a long time. At least they got to be fools together, now.

“Will you... would you mind... um...” Crowley looked at him for just a split second before his golden gaze ticked away again. He was still not used to asking for things he wanted, so Aziraphale gave him time. He’d been more than indulgent when it came to Aziraphale’s whims through the millennia. “I’d like if you could wash my hair? If you want to.”

“Goodness,” Aziraphale said, with enough shock but hopefully enough sarcasm. “Touch all that beautiful hair? Run my fingers through it? Get it all sudsy with a bit of scalp massage? What a chore, Crowley. Of course I would love to.”

Crowley smiled. “Still a bit of a bastard, aren’t you?”

“And yet, you continue to indulge me,” Aziraphale said, moving his hand to touch Crowley’s when Crowley lifted his pruned fingertips out of the water nearby. “Seems like another plan that’s come back to bite you in the behind.”

Crowley groaned and let his head thunk back against the rim of the bath. “Angel, please. Mercy.”

Aziraphale just grinned.


	14. Ice cream smooches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Something kissy and cute, like Aziraphale's eating ice cream and ends up with some on his nose, so Crowley kisses it off"

They could, of course, get ice cream at any time of the year. The grocer sold it from their freezer and even if they hadn’t, a snap of one set of fingers or another could have brought them ice cream from anywhere in the world. They could have created it straight from firmament, or at worst made it themselves shaking milk and cream and sugar in a bag of iced rock salt. Pepper had shown them how two years ago and Aziraphale had made so much of it he hadn’t been able to eat it for months afterward.

And yet... there was something special about ice cream untouched by celestial magic. Aziraphale didn’t exactly _miss_ ice cream over the winter months, but the little spark of excitement he got in the spring, the very first time he saw the cart in the park, was always one of his favorites. It left him warm and pleased and expectant and, more recently, with a sense that everything was going to be okay.

This was the same cart they had gotten ice cream at after they had prevented the world from ending. It was the same cart where the worst of the worst Aziraphale could imagine happening - being ripped away from Crowley and both of them sent to their potential dooms - had _not_ happened. The cart’s re-emergence every spring was a small, shining symbol that one more year had passed the world still turned and they were both still here.

So it was that he got a little overenthusiastic taking his first taste of his cone, and ended up with a spot of sweet, sticky vanilla ice cream on the tip of his nose.

He went a little cross-eyed trying to see it, surprised, and actually got a laugh out of Crowley for his troubles. “Need some help there, angel?”

“Oh yes, please,” Aziraphale said, holding his hand out for a serviette.

Instead, Crowley leaned it close, lips parted just a little, and gave the tip of his nose a little lick, followed by a kiss. Aziraphale’s nose wrinkled, eyes closing as he smiled, and whatever chill was left in the spring air vanished as his cheeks flushed. Crowley gave a breathy chuckle, gently bumped their foreheads together, and then setled back into his own personal space again.

“All good?” he asked.

“Very good,” Aziraphale told him, opening his eyes. “You’re so helpful.”

It was Crowley’s turn to pink a little around the ears. “Shut up,” he said, still smiling, and they both knew he didn’t really mean it.

Aziraphale just smiled back, and took more care on the second taste of his ice cream.


End file.
